The Return of the Witch of the West
by theodorathegood
Summary: It was done. It was all over. The Wicked Witch of the West was dead. Or at least the "Wicked" part was. News spread all over Oz of the defeat of the wicked witch. And how Dorothy was indeed their savior. But there was one last thing. Something that was forgotten by every soul in Oz. Who the Witch of the West really is.
1. Theodora the Good

**Intro :**

**(Hi! I decided to work on another fan fiction along with my other, which I'll try to update soon. Please read and rate both of them! Thank you!)**

It was done. It was all over. The Wicked Witch of the West was dead. Or at least the "Wicked" part was. News spread all over Oz of the defeat of the wicked witch. And how Dorothy was indeed their savior. But there was one last thing. Something that was forgotten by every soul in Oz. Who the Witch of the West really is.


	2. Witch of the West

It was done, it was over. The Wicked Witch of the West was dead. The good news spread all over Oz and everyone celebrated. Everyone except for one person. The Witch of the West herself.

The witch woke up laying on a soft carpet and glanced around the room. It was a very familiar room. This was the room that my sister betrayed me, she thought. She assumed that she had bitten the apple about two to three hours ago. She looked around the room and noticed that she was the only one there, and that the apple was nowhere in sight. The fireplace was crackling and the room was absolutely silent.

She looked down at herself and saw her ripped dress. She remembered how that happened and looked around for her broken necklace, her red cloak, and the white front of her dress. For some reason, they were all stuffed under the futon in the middle of the room.

The witch first picked up her cloak and slipped it on/over her dress. She knew that her dress would have to be repaired so she made sure to pick up the white, front part too. And for her necklace, well, she decided to leave it there for now. She stood up and slowly opened the door to the room and walked out.

She looked around the palace and noted that it was very different. A large painting of an old man stood in front of her. The man looked strangely like the wizard. She looked away from it and headed to her sister's chambers right across the hall.

Guards stood around the large, emerald doors and watched the strange, woman very carefully. She walked over and as usual waited for the guards to open the door. But they just looked at her as if she were a monster. They looked at the old scars that were just directly below her eyes and her ripped, fancy dress. Still, most people were not able to afford such attire. They blocked the door and motioned for her to leave.

But she didn't understand. She was used to always being accepted into any room. She cocked her head and turned around to head to the throne room. She walked slowly and glanced around noticing all of the changes to the palace.

She finally arrived, but something made her turn around. She thought about her room, and how she should probably change out of the torn dress. She headed down the long hallway and turned left, and then right and ended up at her door. She opened it and found it exactly the same. Well almost, except that everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Her shattered mirror was still on the ground, and her queen sized bed was still neat, but she couldn't find anything else that was different.

She opened her closet to find all of her clothes neatly arranged and picked out another white dress, except with the pattern of forward and backward s' with a diamond in the middle. And she chose to keep her red cloak on and redid her perfect bun. She sat back up from her broken vanity and stopped for a second.

She was hoping that the wizard had returned. She wanted to finally marry him, and be his queen as he had promised. But then a thought occurred to her. The wizard was going to marry Glinda. He had fallen for her charms and surely loved her more. Glinda was going to be his queen for sure.

She felt her heart shatter once again. Her eyes grew puffy and red but not a single tear came down. She walked out of the room briskly and headed to the throne room once again to see if the wizard had returned.

The guards, mistaking her as royalty because of her fine clothes, opened the doors for her. But she wasn't expecting what was behind those doors.

A giant head made of smoke and fire stood there, in front of the throne. The witch cocked her head in confusion and carefully examined the strange thing.

"I AM OZ THE GREAT AND POWERFUL! WHAT IS YOUR BUISNESS HERE? YOU DARE ENTER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION?! AND WHO ARE YOU?" the smoky head roared in anger.

"I'm Theodora the Good-" Theodora stopped for a moment.

"Did you say that your name is Oz?" she asked in confusion. She knew that the wizard's name was Oz too. What is going on, she thought.

The head examined her and the scowl on his face turned into a straight face.

"YES-" he cut himself off.

"Theodora, that is a very familiar name to me!" he continued to examine her and a wave of shock filled his face.

The smoky face grew calm and so did his tone.

"You-you can't be here. Th-this can't be you. Dorothy brought your broom here, and-and you were green!"

Her face grew even more confused.

"Green? A broom?" Theodora looked carefully at him and then looked down.

"You are the wizard!" she shouted and felt her heart break. She knew she wasn't in her time. Something must have happened. She had no memories of this time. It must be a trick.

Until something came across her mind.

"You don't mean to say, that I really was green?" she asked, slowly trying to figure things out.

"You are-were the Wicked Witch of the West." The head looked away.

Theodora shook her head and stopped.

"I'm the Good Witch of the West. I'm just want peace-" the head cut her off.

"Yes, er, well less than five hours ago you wanted destruction and terror to await us." The head responded.

The wizard couldn't bear to hide his identity like this. He would have to tell her in person, no matter how hard it would be. He walked out from behind a curtain and approached her. But Theodora didn't know who the man was. He had white hair, he was an older man, the same one that was painted in the picture. But there was something that she recognized. He had the same eyes as the wizard, the one she danced with under the stars, the one who changed her life.

She gasped. This man IS the wizard, she thought.

"It's hard to understand, even I don't understand it myself, but Theodora, I am the wizard. Lots of time has passed since we first met, twenty years exactly. I don't know how you have returned, but I know that it will be hard to adjust to the present Land of Oz." the wizard replied.

Theodora realized how much older she was. She understood why she looked so young still, it was an enchantment from her sister, but it didn't apply to the green version of her. But how had it been twenty years?

The wizard knew it would take a lot of explaining to do, but even he still didn't understand how she had returned.


End file.
